


Miscommunication

by idmakeitbehave



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Affectionate Insults, Awkward Flirting, F/M, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Misunderstandings, aaaaaaaaaaaall of the fluff, love!!!! and mush!!!, sarcasm and hurt feelings and misunderstandings and all that good stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:40:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27336571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idmakeitbehave/pseuds/idmakeitbehave
Summary: Spencer's spent the last ten months learning how to read your biting sarcasm and snappy comebacks- all the while trying desperately to figure out if his not-so-little crush is reciprocated. Despite all of his doubts, he thinks it might just be and he resolves to finally make a move- any move. That is, until you shatter his heart with one little sentence.It really was all in his head, wasn't it?
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Reader
Comments: 14
Kudos: 332





	Miscommunication

Spencer has never been more confused.

And that’s saying a lot. For a certified genius, he somehow manages to be confused _quite_ a bit. But the source of most of his bewilderment lately?

You.

It’s been almost a year of confusion.

Okay, scratch that. Spencer knows exactly how long it’s been. It’s been ten months, thirteen days, and five hours of confusion.

Ten months of Spencer being hopelessly in love with you and you being…. baffling.

Despite his endless vocabulary, his mental dictionary of every word he has ever heard, said, or read, he can’t come up with a better word to describe you.

Well, actually, he can come up with quite a few. Lovely, breathtaking, sometimes _exquisite_ even comes to mind. But mostly- confusing.

It’s not that you’re mean. Far from it. You’re one of the kindest people he’s ever met. The way you interact with families and victims, the way you laugh and joke with the team, every goddamn smile you send his way just serves to solidify that. And _god_ , every time he sees a child run into your arms, his heart feels like it just might burst at the sight.

You’re not mean. You just- you have a unique sense of humor and a somewhat unusual way of interacting with Spencer. Not _just_ Spencer, but certainly him above all.

There’s sarcasm. A _lot_ of sarcasm. That took him a bit to get used to. There’d been quite a few awkward interactions thanks to that, with most of your jokes sailing straight over his head. You, of course, were more than happy to explain them to him. The complete about-face you had pulled the first time had thrown him for an entire loop.

One moment you were glaring, saying something that could certainly be construed as a little callous, and the next your face had softened, your voice sweet and gentle as you explained the joke.

That was when he knew that he was a goner.

Almost a year has gone by since then, and Spencer has gotten much better at reading you. It just took a little practice and he was more than happy to practice, if he was being perfectly honest.

You’re funny- in a biting, sardonic kind of way. Never when it’s inappropriate, never in a way that will truly hurt someone’s feelings. Spencer still doesn’t quite understand the majority of your jokes, but he laughs at them anyway. The gleam in your eye and your little smile does it for him.

It’s no longer the sarcastic remarks that confuse him. At least, they’re not what confuse him the most.

What confuses him the most is just how you interact with him. Spencer can’t help but compare the way you are with him to the way you are with… well, everyone. You laugh and joke and smile with all of them- even Hotch on his good days- but it’s just not quite the same.

He can’t exactly put a finger on what it is that makes it so different with him. And _that_ is what drives him absolutely berserk.

He should be able to figure this out, be able to read you well enough to know what’s going on. He’s a profiler, for god’s sake. More than that, you’re his best friend. You spend almost every free moment together- watching movies, baking cookies (you have to teach him almost everything), even just sitting in silence after a tough case.

And the strange little nicknames. Spencer doesn’t even know if they can be called nicknames, really, but the affectionate way you call him _doofus_ and _dingus_ somehow manages to do something utterly wild to his heart. It shouldn’t be possible for you to call him a dingus and make him grin like a fool at the same time.

It shouldn’t be possible, but here he is.

All of this, and yet he can’t figure out if there’s something there. Anything- anything out of a huge range of possibilities, be it a strong distaste or general apathy or even a crush.

The first two don’t make any sense. He _knows_ they don’t make any sense. You wouldn’t spend so much time with him if you didn’t like him. You wouldn’t snuggle with him on the jet or hold him after shaking him awake from his nightmares if you didn’t at least want to be his friend. And he can’t let his mind linger on that last option- a _crush-_ for too long. That one isn’t even a possibility. He won’t let himself have that false hope.

At least, that’s what he tries to tell himself.

But whatever it is, it just makes his brain feel like mush every time you elbow him in the side or fluff up his hair with a teasing little comment.

Morgan _insists_ that you have a crush on him, but Spencer refuses to believe it. Maybe he should. Morgan is without a doubt the best profiler on the team, he _knows_ what he’s talking about, but Spencer still can’t believe it.

He tells himself that Morgan’s just saying it to be nice. Just to give him a little bit of hope.

_Asshat._

But honestly, lately Spencer’s been noticing. Just little things, tiny things. Maybe nothing, really. But it feels like something to him.

Your playful shoves linger, you hover a little closer than necessary, your fingers card through his hair _much_ longer than is required for a little teasing ruffle.

Spencer doesn’t know if this is new, doesn’t know how long it’s been happening, god, he doesn’t even know if it really _is_ happening.

Maybe it’s just that wishful hope rearing its ugly head.

Whatever it is, he doesn’t want it to stop. Every time you lightly smack his shoulder, every time your hand reaches for his curls, he just wants it to stay like that forever. Your hands on him forever.

He’s being ridiculous. He knows it, but he can’t make himself stop.

Just as he’s trying to talk himself off the ledge yet again, he notices it. He’s in the middle of a conversation with you and he sees it. Your pupils are dilated, your face is flushed, you’re even mirroring the stance that he’s in.

Spencer may not be able to decipher your words, but this? This he understands. This is science, profiling. This is something he knows.

And yet, his mind still fills with doubt. He tries his best to shove it aside, to shove it down.

A few more hours of this, this noticing business, and he decides. Today’s the day.

For what, you might ask? He’s not entirely sure. To ask you how you feel? To make a move? To run for the hills?

Spencer’s never been good at this part.

The adult thing to do is to simply have a conversation, he thinks. That, however, is easier said than done.

The inner turmoil in his head is raging as you talk to him, asking his opinion on something. He can’t think, can’t formulate a coherent response. So, he does what he does best- he spits out a related statistic. This one, unfortunately for him, is not exactly related and turns into _quite_ the tangent. It ends with him stuttering out a few more facts and numbers and then ending with a ‘So, um, yeah.’

Mush, that brain of his.

Spencer finally, _finally_ closes his mouth _,_ fidgeting with his hands as he feels the blush creep up his cheeks.

“Oh man,” you say with a grin, your hand reaching for his hair. “I can’t fucking stand you.”

Spencer’s heart stops. His eyes snap up to look at you, your fingers still in his hair. Your eyes don’t match the words you just said, you’re still grinning at him. You didn’t mean it.

He knows you didn’t mean it.

But it’s too much. This confusion, this raw aching feeling in his chest? It feels like you just stuck a knife right in there. Right in the most vulnerable part.

He jerks back, your face falling as he does. You open your mouth to speak, but he doesn’t stick around long enough to hear what you have to say.

You blink and he’s gone.

Spencer’s moving down the hallway as quickly as he can without attracting any unwanted attention. His thoughts are racing, tears stinging his eyes.

He tries to tell himself that he’s being ridiculous, but he can’t help it. Your words play on a loop in his head, over and over. They sting despite the teasing tone to them, despite the luminous grin you had given his way, despite your fingers in his hair.

Maybe he really did make it all up.

Spencer finds himself in a storage closet of all places. Absurd, really, but what can he do? He shuts the door before climbing behind one of the shelves and sinking to the floor.

And then the tears finally fall.

He doesn’t know how many minutes pass like this, nestled into a corner of this tiny closet, crying pathetically over his unrequited love.

When there’s a quiet knock on the door, Spencer wipes uselessly at his face. It’s pointless. He knows the despair and heartache is all over him, clear as day.

The door opens just a crack. “Spence?” you say softly, stepping into the storage closet. Of course it’s you. You spy him behind the shelf and carefully clamber over a pile of boxes. “Spence?”

He sniffs but doesn’t look at you. He doesn’t think he can.

“Oh, baby,” you murmur, sinking to the ground beside him.

His head snaps up at that. _Did you just call him a baby?_ Then he sees your eyes- huge, kind, welling up with tears to match his.

“I am _so_ sorry,” you continue, your hand reaching for his. He doesn’t push it away. Instead, his fingers lace with yours. “I really, really overstepped. I didn’t mean that at all.”

“I know,” he finally says, but you clearly don’t believe him. “I’m just being ridiculous.”

“No.” You say it so firmly that it makes him really, truly meet your eyes for the first time since he bolted from the bullpen. “You’re not being ridiculous. You’re allowed to be upset over something- anything. I’m sorry, Spence. I never, _ever_ want to make you cry.”

Spencer doesn’t know what to say. He looks back down at the ground, wringing his hands. “Okay.” He says it so quietly that his voice shakes.

You reach out and ever so gently turn his face towards you. He blinks at you, his eyes wide and confused and so, so vulnerable. Your thumb wipes away a stray tear that lingers on his cheek.

“I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just- it’s just how I- god, I don’t know how to phrase this. It’s just how I show that I care?” You grimace, your nose scrunching. “That’s not right. Maybe it’s just- how I try to flirt. And fail miserably. I don’t know, I’m sure we could psychoanalyze how I never learned how to properly express my emotions all day. But- but the point is, I’m sorry and I will _never_ do that again.”

There’s a beat of silence as the two of you stare at each other.

Spencer opens his mouth, seems to reconsider his words, and closes it. You squeeze his hand again and he finally says it. “You were flirting with me?”

The laugh you let out at that fills the tiny storage room, fills Spencer’s heart with the very sound of it.

“That’s what you got out of this?”

Spencer nods sheepishly, just the hint of a smile on his face.

“Yeah,” you say, grinning back at him. “I’m kind of in love with you, you dingus.”

If Spencer’s heart stopped before, he has _no_ idea what’s happening to it now.

You take the continued silence and Spencer’s wide eyes for rejection, pulling your hand out of his as the smile drops from your face. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have said that either. God, I am just ruining ever-”

Your voice fades when Spencer reaches up to hold the side of your face.

“I’m kind of in love with you too,” he says softly. And then he pauses before adding, “Doofus.”

You snort at his pathetic attempt at teasing but your giggles stop as he leans closer to you.

He pauses, that little doubt creeping its way back into his thoughts, but then he notices. Your eyes flicker to his lips, and you break into the widest smile.

It wasn’t all in his head.

And then he does it. Spencer finally, _finally_ kisses you.

Your fingers lace through his curls, his own hands pulling you as close to him as humanly possible. 

You practically crawl onto his lap, kissing him fervently. Kissing him like you’ve wanted to kiss him for the last ten months.

You’re still not close enough. He doesn’t think you’ll ever be close enough. He shifts, wrapping an arm around your waist and knocking over a broom in the process. It lands across the two of you, and you break away with a startled laugh.

There’s a pause before you push the broom to the side, still laughing as you press kisses everywhere- his forehead, his nose, his cheek, his chin. You even tug the collar of his sweater down and plant one on his collarbone. Everywhere you can reach.

And then- there’s a pinch.

He pulls away with a start, eyes wide. “Did you just bite my shoulder?”

“Mhm.” You press a kiss to said shoulder and Spencer’s full of so many emotions that he thinks he may just never recover. “I’m just so overwhelmed by my love for you.”

“So that means you _bite_ me?”

“Yep.” You say it simply, laughing again before continuing your mission of peppering his face with tiny kisses.

Spencer is _definitely_ never going to recover. “You’re so strange.”

“And you love it.”

“Yeah,” he says with a quiet smile. “Yeah, I do.”

Clarity.

After ten months, thirteen days, and twelve hours of confusion, Spencer finally understands.

And if Morgan sees the two of you stumble out of the storage closet, hand in hand and giggling with matching grins, he doesn’t say a word.

At least, not yet.


End file.
